I lose my breath for the ways we wept
Carving our chains from the sorrows we claim
I curse my hands as they build my plans
The coffin sized for me that I lovingly heed
Each step towards my death I shriek as I grin
I cannot stop mourning even as I descend
Why do we not cease all this clamor and doubt?
I know what will save me but I grieve anyhow
We built our own tomb-traps but we gild them and stay!
filling the rooms with silver decay
Floating our corpses in gold-blood and gloom
We’re certain this death will not be the last
We’ve died so many times in the past
Sometimes the greatest poetry…
Rage, silent storm;
Is the absence of any.
The quiet, heavy ladled
Only over the story..
You would tell, but refuse.
Respect me, or I will blow your memory like dust into the wind.
You do not deserve any acknowledgment from my breath.
My teeth clack loudly for attention
My tongue clicks to be heard.
I yawn, and each ear pops its knuckles
Ready for a brawl.
Still not but harrowing be the breath
Still not still but my heart beats
I ache to find repose in death
Meanwhile attempting to believe.
Call privilege, vainly swoop abroad
Above sluggish shores of little gods.
Defeat the lineage of the beast
Which picks our bones from pleasing teeth.
Disregard interim fate. If you’re not you, why ever wait?
The world longs for Tragedy, for Grey tones turned Silver by romantic sludge.
give her instead some Bravery. Let Quiet call the hush.
Please do not think you know me
Do not think you can read my eyes.
I am far more wild and cold; your familiar manner I despise
No man could ever know my heart
For I’ve sent it far away; it resides in icy barricades beyond a frozen sea
No one will melt the frost
No one will touch my thoughts
I curl my lip in bitter distaste
All you know is my ivory face.
Welcome to the savage realm where blood runs black like venom
I tear apart my own veins in disheartening disease
I need to breathe, I’m choking, please
Step far away from me.
broken bits; human beings wonder if
we’ll ever be fixed enough to seem
like heartache is not unraveling
the seams we stitch to break our bonds
funny how we tie those knots
specifically to free ourselves;
and yet the prison remains.
we are cracked and chipped like pottery
the lumpy turtle kilned in third grade;
Pork Chop the pig named by pigtails
and all the in between.
And yet more perfect still are we
than over-fired pottery;
humans were made by divine hands
so no matter how we crush ourselves
we can always be repaired.
I fell upon the coldest stone,
And found myself in a dreaming-world.
Where the stars were holes in a gaping maw,
And the moon was a flag unfurled.
I stumbled into a river of thought,
And the current dragged away my dreams.
While the cat-bears prowled on an endless shore,
My eyes came apart at the seams.
My vision blacked and the moon came back,
From its holiday in the sky.
And even though I cannot sew,
I frantically searched for my eyes.